


The Reminder

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [46]
Category: British Actor RPF, The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Casting Couch, F/M, Phone Sex, The Night Manager - Freeform, jack linden - Freeform, phone sex with an ex, susanne bier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Carmen calls Tom before the Emmys to wish him luck. And as long as he has her on the line, he may as well tell her about the weird (read: sexy) dream he had.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this as a submission for the "casting couch" edition of Sunday Smut Spotlight (http://twh-sss.tumblr.com/).

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I reckon.”

“How were the parties?”

“Good. Fun.”

“Get enough sleep?”

“I tried but I was too excited.”

“I know you were.”

“I’m presenting tonight, Car.”

“I know, Tom.”

“Let’s hope people are watching.”

“Oh, they will be. They know how good you look in a tuxedo, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“They would have remembered from the Met Ball.”

“Car.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Any more dreams?”

“Of you?”

“Um, yeah.”

“No dreams. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Last night. It wasn’t a dream so much as a memory of an audition.”

“Oh? Do you even have to audition for stuff anymore?”

“Not really, but screen tests are still part of the process.”

“Of course. So it was a screen test then?

“Yeah. For _The Night Manager.”_

“Was it just like you remembered?”

“Not quite…”

“Tom…”

“Everything the same. Only…”

“Yeah?”

“Susanne wasn’t there, she wasn’t directing the scene.”

“Where was she?”

“Dunno.”

“So who was directing?”

“Haven’t you guessed? You were directing, darling. You were.”

“I need to lie down.”

“You’re going to need to.”

“Oh dear.”

“Ready?”

“Sure you want to do this? Do you have time?”

“I have time.”

“Why don’t I remember this? Why didn’t I dream this, too?”

“Maybe because I knew this was something I knew I’d have to tell you.”

“Lucky me.”

“So, the screen test was just… awful. Bad. It was not just one scene but several. To see how I did with the fight scenes, some physical stuff. A few of the tenser conversations.”

“Is that all?”

“No.”

“What else was there?”

“A love scene. With the girl from Cornwall. When I was Jack Linden.”

“Oh yes.”

“We’d already tested for chemistry, but for some reason, it just wasn’t happening.”

“She wasn’t into you? Not even a little?”

“Or maybe I was distracted. In any case, you weren’t happy. Not even a bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“So how did we fix it?”

“We didn’t. It was either too slow or too fast. The angles were off, or the light was bad. The girl, my scene partner, she was getting frustrated. And I knew I had the part, or I was sure, but it wasn’t coming together.”

“Did I fire you?”

“No. You just sort of gave up on me. You called cut, and then we all took an hour for lunch.”

“A break, to reset? That was nice.”

“But it didn’t feel nice, Car. I wanted the chance to fix it, keep trying, but you just shut me down. And this is the thing. I was angry. At me for cocking it up, and then at you for not letting me fix it.”

“I was just doing my job, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t let me do mine.”

“Something tells me this isn’t just about the screen test.”

“Yeah.”

“You need a minute?”

“No.”

“So what happened next?”

“I couldn’t find you. We were at a studio, and there was a cafeteria but you weren’t there. I found you back on the set, sort of walking around, looking at the bed.”

“Why was I doing that?”

“You were talking to yourself. Saying like ‘What did I do?’ and ‘What did I miss? Where did I go wrong?’”

“Was I…?”

“You were blaming yourself. For everything in the scene.”

“Sounds like something I would do.”

“I meant to leave you alone, because I knew I shouldn’t have been there. But as I was walking away, I tripped over a light. I didn’t knock it over, but it wobbled and you called out.”

“Did you come over?”

“I did. You looked hurt, but not as angry as before. You asked me to tell you what I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking?”

“That I knew I could do it. I could do the scene, be Pine, be Linden or Birch. It was my job to lose, and you knew it. You couldn’t deny that I was the right man for the job. You just had to trust me.”

“If you were screwing up, then why should I believe you?”

“You asked me that exact question.”

“And what was your reply?”

“I took you to bed.”

“What.”

“The doors to set were locked, and everybody was gone. There was fake sunlight coming through the window, and the bed was a real one, not just a prop rigged up for the test.. You wanted everything right. You wanted it to look good, to look real.”

“And did it?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Tell me.”

“We were standing and kissing by the bed. You were about to undress me but I grabbed your wrists. Pushed them down so I could undress you instead. Pulling off your jumper, kissing your shoulders as I took off your bra. You kicked off your own shoes while I ripped off my shirt, yanked down my jeans before taking care of yours. I helped you sit on the bed, pushed you back then spread your legs as I knelt on the floor before you. It was like I was seeing you for the first time again. You looked the same as you always did. But did you taste the same? Darling, you did. It was then that I realized. The scene work, the test, it was my fault. I was holding back. You were watching me pretend to make love to somebody else. Kiss her, touch her, fuck her. But I couldn’t get there, couldn’t hit my marks because she wasn’t you. I couldn’t play at love with her until I could make love with you for real. But you were far away, behind that camera, watching my every move, wondering why I couldn’t do what you wanted. But once I had you on the bed, face planted between your thighs, my unworthy tongue licking and sucking at you, it was right. It wasn’t long, you were so wet, and you tasted so good, before you were tugging on my hair. Whining that you were close, you were going to come, and I knew how to get you there. I flicked the tip of my tongue over your clit, pushed the button, and then you screamed. You called for me, and I answered. I got on top of you, wrapped my hands around your thighs as I pulled you closer. When I could feel your legs sort of hook over my hips, I thrust. I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to be inside you, where I knew it was good. You were somewhere else, your eyes cloudy, laughing. You were fingering your clit, and it was so fucking sexy. I’ getting hard just thinking about it now. Then you were tightening  around me, and it was harder to focus. I couldn’t hold back. Not anymore. I braced myself, leaned in closer so you could wrap an arm around my neck. We were kissing, it was all happening so fast, and your breasts were bouncing as you laughed and all of a sudden you went still. You came, Carmen. Coming on me, so hard and long. Moaning in my ear. Wherever you had gone, you had come back. Your eyes were clear, looking into me as I came right after. Going stiff, and feeling all that tension sort of leave me. And it was like, I wasn’t just showing you that I could play the part. I was showing you that I always the right man, the only man who could do it. The man you wanted, needed. I just needed to remind you of that.”

“...”

“Button? You there?”

“Almost.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Sorry, darling.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby.”

“I didn’t mean to just sort of….”

“No. I’m glad you did. You got it off your chest.”

“Yes, darling.”

“And you sort of, hmm, sprayed it onto mine.”

“Oooh.”

“Which is just a shame. If you could see it.”

“See what?”

“Me. My chest. What I’m wearing to bed.”

“Oh?’

“Yeah, it’s just a little something I picked up. Basic white tank top, sheer.”

“Sheer?”

“Yes.”

_“Yes.”_

“I didn’t even tell you the best bit.”

“What could be better?”

“It says, um, ‘I love T.H.’ on the front. Only with a heart, you know.”

“...”

“Sorry.”

“Button…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll remember to show it to you. The next time you’re home.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Break a leg, baby.”

“Thank you, love. I will.”


End file.
